Joe Lucas's Handy Dandy Guide to Getting the Girl
by mint repeat
Summary: It is what it is. A handy dandy guide to getting the girl of your dreams it with a pretentious name. Hee. Joe/Macy. Jonas. AU


A/n – Written entirely for my own amusement. I dont mean it to be taken seriously at all because I wrote it for laughs. Extreme silliness and crackiness ahead. You've been warned. :)

Only the plot belongs to me. Jonas belongs to Disney and whatever else you recognize belongs to whoever created it.

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**Joe Lucas's Handy Dandy Guide to Getting the Girl of Your Dreams.**

//

Okay, I know what you're thinking. The title is too damn long for what is supposed to be a handy dandy guide. Well guess what pal, it's my book and besides you know, all self help books have overly long titles so don't hate the player, hate the game.

Second of all, this isn't for those idiots who just want to 'tap that booty'. This is for those poor guys who are eternally pining on the sidelines and know every little detail about the girl they love, right down to how she hates lettuce because it's too crispy, simply because they care and love her enough to listen.

And once upon a time, I was that guy. (I know, the picture that comes to mind is that of a sad wimp and yeah, it was a wee bit sad especially when I'd _uh_, sometimes spray my pillow with her perfume and cuddle it. Don't judge me! If you are reading this, chances probably are that you've already been there and more.)

Anyhow the girl I pined after, she was the glorious Macy Misa (who is currently my girlfriend! ZOMG! I still get all fluttery when I say it to myself. And you are allowed to feel fluttery once in awhile if you are a guy so don't laugh at me!)

If you have been following the band JONAS (and you should cause otherwise my friend, you are missing out on the awesomeness, the handsomness and the soulfulness that is us.) you will know that Macy Misa was and still is JONAS's number one fan. And some of you might even remember her as the crazy chick who was well, _crazy_ about us.

Anyhow, you might be wondering, what is so special about a crazed fan? She was crazy AND scary and out of general interest for mine own wellbeing, I stayed out of the way.

But that was the peripheries of it.

See, when I broke up with Stella, (who is my bestest friend, forever and for always) it was Macy who helped pick up the pieces. She listened to me rant and rave and then at the end, she offered me sage advice and the comfort of a kind friend. And that opened my eyes.

(By the way, just cause two people have known each other their entire lives; it does not mean that they are automatic romantic soul mates. That's not the way humans and relationships work. Sometimes friends are exactly that. _Just_ friends. I learnt the hard way with Stella and I think so did she with me.)

Anyhoo, back to my gorgeous girlfriend who I love more than my entire closet of skinny jeans and hair straightener, heck, I love her more than anything else in the world. Er, sorry got a little sidetracked there.

So like I was saying, Macy helped me out of the biggest quandary of my teenage life. And she didn't even expect anything in return. She just did it because she was a wonderful enough friend to care that I was hurting. And then realization hit.

Well not right away, cause if you know me, you must know that I'm the most oblivious guy on this planet. Just like Kevin, except a different kind of oblivious. Subtlety needs to hit me in the face with the force of a hammer in order for me to really open my eyes so to speak.

So what did open my eyes to the fact that Macy was _the_ girl?

There were all these signs that she was The One. But like I said, I was stupid and blind and besides at that time, it didn't really strike me that Macy could be that one. (Err, I'm a little self-involved at times. Trying to break the habit but you know, it's kind of hard to do it when you are a rock star and everyone around you bends over backwards to accommodate your every need. BUT, I'm a little better now and can totally carry on a conversation with you even if I'm taking care of my fabulous mug.)

So anyway, when Macy began dating Van Dyke, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Seeing her around with Van Dyke and watching her do all those couple-y things with him ripped my eyes open rather quick.

And then it struck me.

I couldn't call up Macy in the middle of the night to talk about my adoration for Slim Jims because maybe, she could be talking to Van Dyke at that time or dreaming sweet dreams about him.

I couldn't randomly drag Macy to the park and race on bicycles with her because she was already occupied with Van Dyke.

I couldn't ask her to read flash cards with me for Geometry because maybe she was already studying with Van Dyke.

And it was not that I grudged her happiness. Seeing her happy with Van Dyke made me very happy too. It was just that I had kind of gotten used to her being there all the time for me.

And while she was still there, I was no longer her go to guy.

And then it really _really_ struck me.

_I_ wanted to be her go to guy.

I wanted her to watch movies with _me_ and put my arm around her shoulder.

I wanted her to read flash cards with _me_ and then maybe turn it into an impromptu make-out session. (She told me how that many times happened with her and Van Dyke and for a while, all I could see was red and green.)

I wanted her to be by my side, all the time as the other half of my soul.

(Yes, this is mushy. Yes this is sappy. But I'll have you know that if you are a true metrosexual man of the world, you can be manly and mushy. Suck on that suckers! Besides, love in general is the stuff sappiness is made of. What do you want me to do, blow up stuff instead? Ha. _Thought so_. I have once again pwned you with my awesomeness.)

To summarize, I wanted Macy to be my girlfriend. Not Van Dyke's. But when I had my epic realization, Macy was with Van Dyke and very happy. And I didn't have it in me to go break them up. It would have made me happy, but it would have put Macy in the tightest spot ever. And I was too much of a decent dude to do that. (I know modesty is a virtue but sometimes, you have to toot your own horn to quell the question mongers.)

(BTW, how fab is my vocab?)

So I bid my time. It wasn't the easiest thing ever but I did anyways. Because it was either Macy giving me a kick on my fabulously toned behind for destroying her happiness or me vacillating between misery and happiness cause at least I had Macy as a friend even though I was pining from afar and knew that she didn't like lettuce cause leafy vegetables had no business being crisp and crunchy. And I chose to be miserably happy.

But then the most glorious day ever came around.

I know, I know, one does not delight in another's misery but I think one can delight in another's happiness and calmness that stems from a mutually amicable break up.

Yeah, Macy and Van Dyke broke up.

And I am human enough to admit that I wanted to turn cartwheels and I did turn cartwheels. Except explaining the cartwheels part to Macy was a little hard. I settled for telling her that it was because I got an A in Spanish. (Which was totally true by the way, mi amigos. See what I did there?)

So now we get down to the meat of what this handy dandy pretentiously named guide is all about.

Now that the girl is not encumbered by persuasions of the romantic kind, it is up to the boy/man to step up to the plate and seize the day. Carpe Diem! (No, I unfortunately haven't learnt Latin.)

//

Now read very carefully, my dear n00bs in the field of lurve and romance. These four steps will tell you how to woo the lady of your dreams.

Here we go:

Step 1 – Sophistication.

Weapon of choice – The language of love.

Now there is some debate as to what exactly construes the language of love. French, Italian or old school sign language like in Jerry Maguire.

Well here are some points which I should raise in order to bolster my argument that French is the language of love.

In French, you can compare your love to fine wine matured in oak caskets. In Italian, you can compare your love to the endless length of a string of pasta.

Now tell me which sounds like a better metaphor for l'amour.

If you think Italian, I will come after you with my Gucci loafers and beat you into the ground.

It's French, okay? Just to make this clear for dudes who still can't read the large and clear print.

Of course, sign language is also a good way to go because chances are that the girl _has_ seen Jerry Maguire and some things never get old or too cheesy. But there are chances that your girl may not have seen Jerry Maguire so you had better go with French to save your sorry ass.

(If I sound like the drill instructor at your boot camp, forgive me. Love is a battlefield and all of that shizz.)

Here's how my experience with Macy went:

Me : Aaaahhhmygawd! The cafeteria is serving French Fries!

Macy: You are such a dork. (smiles adorably as I melt into a puddle of goo at the sight of French Fries and Macy. My favourite fantasy? Heck yes!)

Me : Ah, but I'm the dork you love. (smiles smugly.)

Macy : And pigs can fly.

Me : *pouty face*

Macy : *rolls eyes*

Me : You are my French Fry, my only French Fry. You make me happy, when food is gray. You'll never know girl, how much I love you, please don't take my French fry away! Ta-da.

Macy : My French Fry loving freak, I love you too.

Both of us : *blushes*

Me : (to break the awkwardness) Zis ees a French Fry. Eets from France. J'adore ze French Fry. Eets vairy preete. Vout about ew?

Macy : You made your point. Now eat before I steal them all and hand them out to the football team.

Giggles ensue.

Now any sane reader might want to ask, where in the hell did that involve French and the language of love other than French Fries of an ambiguous French origin and a horribly bad French accent?

Well the truth is it didn't. The whole point of the matter is that sophistication is a virtue for sure. And I was going for sophisticated. But then I saw the French Fry and her holding the French Fry and I lost all coherent thought. But sometimes, being goofy and silly and generally immature will bring you much closer than before. As you see it did with me and Macy.

Unless of course your girl has a taste for the finer things. Then my friend you had better sign up for French classes and be prepared to smell like a flower but make love like a…_Frenchman_. Hehee. I'm still so juvenile.

//

Step 2 – Sensitivity.

Weapon of choice – The Plasma Screen. Or if you are not rolling in the benjamins, then the comfort of your battered fourteen inch will do too. Or whatever have you.

One cardinal rule of the big screen is this. Never ever _ever_ assume that all girls like chick flicks. Just like you should never assume that all boys like horror movies. If you take your girl to a chick flick, she just might bat you on the head with her purse or if she's much more politer or refined as my Macy is, she will politely watch it with you and then force you to watch horror movies until you whimper like a baby at every sound and creak and need to sleep with the night light on.

(By the way, that totes didn't happen to me. Like, _not_ _at_ _all_ okay.)

See sensitivity isn't only about appreciating the fact that not all sleepovers consists of girls in skimpy pajamas and pillow fights and makeout sessions but it's also about equality of the remote.

Sharing is caring.

That proverb, however old totally has a point.

Now I understand, when football season comes, you may briefly, for a short period of time want to a have an affair with your TV. (If you love your TV and want to marry it AND also marry your girl, then you have a problem. Polygamy is mostly politically incorrect I think wrong in a few cultures and speaking from a practical point of view, also a total headache which will only ensure that you get no love from either of your wives.)

So yeah, do not give in to the temptation of your TV and glue yourself to it for a prolonged period of time, especially when it's time for her to see her favourite show.

Because even that one gesture on your part, where you happily hand over the remote and let her see whatever makes her happy despite the fact that your show is coming on, that will prove to her that you _are_ the _only_ dude for her.

Because nothing else is more important to you than her.

Not even Friday night football.

(As an alternative, I suppose you could buy another TV and watch your programme. But you will surely miss out on the cuddles you will have with her and you also just might miss out on some awesome show like Gossip Girl. Seriously, the drama and backstabbing on that show is loltastic. And it's full of pretty people too so I guess that is a bonus too. _Not_ that I'm invested in that show. And _certainly_ _not_ that I want Dan and Blair to get together. Just saying in general it's a funny show to watch.)

(Though seriously, Chuck is one badass mofo.)

That's how me and Macy bonded even more. Because I sacrificed The Muppet Show in favour of Nigella Bites. In return, I got a bunch of hugs, lots of cookies and Fridays, even though Supernatural is coming on then, I get to see erm…Gossip Girl.

So remember guys, remote sharing is just the beginning of a long and happy relationship.

(And dammit, if you are laughing about Gossip Girl, I'm gonna hunt you down and punch you or better yet, I'll send Macy after you with a baseball bat.

Be scared.

Very scared.)

//

Step 3 – Wittiness.

Weapon of choice - This is a bit of a duh thing but jokes are always a good way to start. If you didn't know that, please crawl out of the rock you are living under and integrate yourself into the real world.

Anyhow, living under a rock-ness aside, jokes are a bit of a tricky proposition.

See, not everyone is gifted with the ability to tell a joke. Seriously, ask my brother Nick to tell you a joke and instead he will give you a theoretical analysis of what the psychological motivations behind the joke are. Or ask my brother Kevin to tell you a joke. What you will get instead is a story of how a chipmunk met a duck and then they met a singing bear who in turn met a ninja otter and something about guitars thrown in.

So yeah, they can't tell jokes to save their lives and me, the jokes I tell are LAME. (Really, you have to meet me to know this. Sit with me for an hour or so and I'll make you want to tear your hair out. Unless you are distracted by my dashing handsome self and don't care. That's totally okay by me. _I think_.)

So how can one be witty when one doesn't have the comedic gifts for it?

The answer is simple.

Vulgarity or rather, being horribly inappropriate.

Yeah, you read that right. And you're probably thinking about how your mother would whack you senseless if she found you were making vulgar lamesauce inappropriate for civil company jokes.

But that's the thing. Innuendo can be your friend provided you use it right. And in moderation.

Par example –

Me : Macy what did one tennis player say to the other player approaching him?

Macy : What? (Narrows her eyes at me)

Me : Man, you got ballz!

Macy: Why? Why must I suffer this torture? Wait, I know what. I'll go call your mother and tell her what wonderful jokes you tell me and maybe, I'll even repeat some of them to her. (Smirks evilly.)

Me : Noooooooo…I'm ruined! (Me wrestling Macy for the phone and some other things you don't need to know.)

So you are probably thinking, that didn't go well for me. You are on the right track genius. It didn't go well for me cause a) My innuendo was far too weak, b) Jokes aren't my thing, c) I'm a glutton for punishment.

So what is the lesson to be learnt?

Don't be witty at all.

Seriously, if you value your life and don't want to plug your ears when your mother screeches into the phone, don't tell your jokes even if you are dying on inside.

Unless of course you are witty by default and can totally escape your mother's lectures.

In that case, I salute you my friend.

March right on.

//

Step 4 – Romanticism

Weapon of choice – I don't have a weapon of choice for this one. I think my brain has frizzled out imparting all of this wisdom. Sigh. No rest for the weary. Or the wicked. Either way, I'm not sure. I'm all out of wit.

When I say romanticism, I do not mean in the way that I ask you to scale a balcony and declare your love a la Romeo and Juliet. Nor do you have to fill the room with her favourite roses though I'm thinking that if you are going to propose marriage you might not want to skimp on it and look like a cheapo. Some occasions require grand gestures. Others don't.

Let me let you in on a little something.

As a teenage rock star, one's allowance isn't all that fabulous. Or at least mine wasn't because I had stubbornly normal parents who gave me 100 dollars a month to cover everything from school to food though if I did need more and could make a legitimate case for it, they'd give it to me.

Anyhow when we were teens, I and Macy regularly went out to eat, specifically every Friday and we went to McDonalds because it was cheap and nice and we both loved the happy meal toys.

Now, we always split the cost of the meal because going dutch is the new thing. But I think it was rather that we both felt awkward when someone else paid for us.

Now, one time when we went there, we were done with our meal toys but Macy was rather disappointed because she got some lame-ass Naruto toy which we didn't even know how to operate in lieu of something that I don't know, made at least some sense. I offered to trade her my Optimus Prime truck in return for the Naruto thing but Macy wouldn't hear of it, so I decided that it was time for me to fight for my girl.

(It sounds cheesy but dammit, some things shouldn't be endured. Like crappy happy meal toys!)

I present to you my finest moment ever :

Me : Excuse me …(reads name tag) Andy, could I please have a different happy meal toy.

Andy : (recites sonorously like he's quoting something) I am sorry sir but you cannot exchange happy meal toys. It goes against our policy. Each meal has a specific toy intended for it and we cannot change it.

Me : Are you serious?

Andy : I am perfectly serious sir. I do not joke. _At_ all. (Stares blankly at me.)

Me : Look dude, the Naruto toy is a crappy one. All I want to do is exchange it for a Gloria the Hippo one. Surely that is not too much. And besides, I'll even pay the difference. Come on, it's for my best friend.

Andy: No can do sir. Store policy is absolute and I cannot and will not go against it. (The aggravating idiot sounds like a slightly fanatical robot. And he then stares at me. Blankly again.)

Me : (Looks back and forth between Macy gazing forlornly at her toy and the toys sitting on the counter. Makes a split second decision and then takes off like the wind.) Macy, throw your money on the table and run!

Yeah, I stole Gloria the Hippo from the counter and ran for my life, with Macy sprinting behind me. It was rather stupid of me and I was super glad the store didn't press charges or anything because I'm a celebrity and I didn't want to get impounded for stealing a Happy Meal Toy.

(Besides, we chucked the Naruto toy back at them. If you ask me, it was fair exchange_._)

Anyhow, what was the whole point this juvenile law breaking episode of mine?

Let me relate the point to you.

(I am going to do this in past tense cause goshdarnit, writing in the present wrecks my head! Also some, _er_ creative liberty has been taken. Haters to the left please.)

//

"Oh my god Joe, did you just steal a toy from the counter?" Macy asked me with a shocked but amused smile.

"They wouldn't allow me to exchange the toy so I did it myself. Besides, I think we can all agree, Gloria the Hippo pwns Naruto whatever." I said grinning at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were shining and there was something inside me that told me that running fast wasn't the only reason my heart was beating so hard.

"So you didn't steal the toy because I didn't like the Naruto one?" She asked me, her head tilted to one side as she eyed with a questioning gaze.

I think I then realized that this had the potential to go somewhere. The question seemed loaded and I for one was determined to take a chance. After all, you'll never know until you've tried right?

"I stole the toy because the sight of you looking like a kicked puppy made my heart wrench in more ways than once." It sounded cheesy but it was the most sincere sentence that had ever come out of my mouth.

Macy smiled, so big that I was afraid her face was going to hurt.

She stepped closer to me and leaned up and placed a small but firm kiss on the side of my lips.

"That's why I love you," she said as she stepped back, still smiling.

All of a sudden it seemed as if thoughts were sliding left and right in my brain and everything was exploding, something like fireworks on the fourth of July.

It wasn't a grand declaration of love but it was such a simple statement that it lifted my heart and sent it soaring right into the puffy clouds above.

I tucked my arm through hers and we began walking back, my smile as big as hers.

And it wasn't like I needed to say something in return. Because I think she already knew, from the way she was smiling and the knowing twinkle in her eyes. But all the same I couldn't help murmuring to the wind in general.

"I love you too,"

Two years and six months and my heart seemed lighter and heavier at the same time.

What a wonderful feeling!

//

Okay, that was super sappy but I was only trying to show you what I felt.

In conclusion I would just like to say one thing.

Maybe you need to follow these steps and maybe you don't. I can't tell. I really cant advice you about your love life because you have got to stumble through and figure it out. If these help you, then well and good. And if they don't, then even better.

Because it's not in the method and it's not in the grand gestures.

It's all in the little details and the little things.

Remember _that_ my friend.

(By the way we never went back to that restaurant. Turns out Andy burnt it down because _God_ asked him to. Yeah, we too like to think it was a lucky escape.)

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A/n – I kind of miss writing Joe. Are your brains leaking out of your ears? I did warn you. ;)


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